Frail (Inkwell Series
by ElvenMaia
Summary: The fate of a small fawn teaches Thranduil a valuable life lesson. Thranduil/OC


**My deepest condolences to the readers of my current 'in progress' story. But this is 'Inktober' as some of you artists may know, (for those who don't, I'll be posting a whole section about this new series on my profile) and I have decided to do a short story to go along with each picture [or try to] :) The titles will always be the prompt word for the day, and I'll use my pictures as the cover for the corresponding story. Well, hope y'all enjoy (3**

**[Reviews are greatly appreciated :)]**

**Disclaimer: Nope, Middle-earth isn't mine.**

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_**~Inkwell Series~**_

Frail

The morning dew rested on the small wisps of grass, making them glitter with dazzling colors before being softly crushed by an incredibly light step from a leather boot. Light brushing from a luxurious wine-red robe popped the small droplets and they slithered down to the fragrant wet earth.

A lone figure walked amongst the thinned trees. The golden light of dawn peeked through the rustling leaves, caressing his fair face with its warmth and brightly illuminating the mithril circlet and his long, pale-gold tresses as they floated with the pull of the soft breeze.

Thranduil brushed the moist bark of the trees as he walked past them, taking comfort in their steadfastness and they in turn filled his ears with the joyful waking of the Song. He stopped at an old birch and lightly leaned his head against it, listening; letting its melody of year-laden wisdom envelop his unsettled fea.

He had risen before Anor to escape the mountain of paperwork stacked on his desk, and now he wished he would never have to return.

Harsher rustling in the boughs above caught his attention, but he was too late to escape the descending cloak that draped right over his head.

He recognized the scent of it immediately.

Thranduil wrestled with the garment and managed to flip it over his head—the threads had gotten snagged in his circlet—before he came face to face with his assailant. She had silently dropped out of the trees and now stood before him with her hip cocked and eyes twinkling with mirth as he turned on her a half-hearted glare.

"Don't you have better things to do than following your king around in his duties," Thranduil growled playfully, but without his usual vigor.

Celeblessil raised one elegant eyebrow challengingly.

"I saw the paperwork on your desk." She chuckled as a look of increasing irritation played across her husbands face with her remark and the fact that he couldn't get the heavy cloak threads out of the small hook-like protrusions in his crown. His hair was also getting tussled. Celeblessil came forward and plucked the threads from his crown and eased the cloak off his head and shoulders from where she dropped it from her perch in the trees.

Once his head was free from the cloth, he removed his crown and tried to smooth down his hair. He ejected a tired sigh and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes when Celeblessil moved behind him and dutifully took to combing her fingers through his silky tresses.

"Tough day?" she said, her fingers still at work.

Thranduil huffed out an empty laugh. "I'm convinced it is a pack of very ill-tempered wargs masquerading as my council members. They wear me down faster than rainwater on sandstone," he said.

She smiled grimly as she began to loosely plait his hair. She knew he was struggling with the outcome of the Last Alliance that had thrown the weight of an entire kingdom on his already bleeding shoulders. On top of that, the loss of both his parents, more recently his father, left him feeling beaten into the dust.

"I'm sorry to throw you back in the warg's den, but many of those papers are urgent," she reminded him gently, a light jest still present in her voice.

"I know, I know. I just— needed to think."

She tied off the braid with nimble fingers and let her chin rest on his shoulder and clasped his hand.

"Thinking or remembering? Regretting?"

He turned his head and curled his lips in a small half smile. "Can I not hide anything from you?"

"It does no good to waste emotions on the past. It will not change however much you may wish it, meleth-nin."

He furrowed his brows in a thoughtful look and stared towards the ever-thickening trees. A few silent beats passed between them. "Perhaps. I admit the past does trouble me, but it is who I am now that has me thinking." Celeblessil had a way of stripping his emotional barrier and sensing if anything was amiss, so he stopped trying to hide things from her. For the most part.

"Whatever do you mean?" She stepped in front of him, her hand still clasping his and looked at him intently.

"This _king_ that doesn't even have time to be with his family—, this king is not who you married." Much more quietly he added, "And I do not even know of I am even that."

"I married _Thranduil_. I married Thranduil the _king, _Thranduil the ellon I fell in love with, and Thranduil the father of our beautiful little boy." She poked his chest with every statement for emphasis. "I don't want you to ever forget that." She looked sincerely in his eyes to drive her reassurance home for a few beats, and he returned it with a sad smile. She could tell this wasn't exactly what had been bothering him, but it was alright; she knew exactly what had been on his mind. Some things were still too fresh, others had not fully healed. But now was not the time to let him wallow in the past. "Come now, I'm sure the court can do without you a while longer." She pulled him towards the underbrush where the trees began to thicken again.

"Celeblessil I can't-"

"Hush! You need to some air to clear that head of yours. Masquerading wargs! Sometimes you simply-" her jesting was interrupted by a small yelp as Thranduil took off running, her hand going with him. Her clear laugh rang pleasantly beyond the trees.

They slowed and began following a small game trail. "So how is our beautiful little boy," said Thranduil after a while.

"He was napping when I left to— well, nevermind what I left to do," they shared a wry look, "but I can imagine that he will be getting himself into mischief once he wakes. I believe he has made a game of sneaking past the nannies." She laughed again. "He often succeeds. I do believe he took after me in that aspect."

"Oh? And he took after-"

Thranduil was suddenly silenced as Celeblessil put a finger over his lips in indication for him to be quiet.

"Wha-?" And then he heard it. It sounded like someone wailing in distress. They swiftly took off to the sound.

Thranduil suddenly stopped, clutching Celeblessil's arm to bring her to an abrupt halt. His eyes were fixed on a patch of undergrowth that began moving violently. The long wail erupted from the spot. Celeblessil tugged on her arm but Thranduil wouldn't let go.

"Someone could be injured! Let go!"

"You stay right there," he said, not seeming to hear her and with his eyes trained on the spot. He reached into his cloak and unsheathed his sword with the barest of slithers, and began stalking slowly to the spot. Celeblessil rolled her eyes in exasperation and fidgeted in place as he moved the brush aside with his sword. He peered into the little enclave and immediately gasped and dropped to his knees, thrusting the sword away. Celeblessil struggled to see past his shoulders and eventually raced to his side, dropping to her knees also.

A small fawn lay curled beneath the canopy of leaves, its hind legs tangled in a thick group of thorned vines. It's matchstick-like legs were bleeding from struggling against the thorns and it's tiny body was all bones. Thranduil untangled it's legs with gentle fingers and pulled the small form into his lap. The fawn's heart was beating erratically and it opened it mouth as if to cry out again, but nothing came from it's throat. A small but well placed blood-leaking graze on the little one's neck proved it did not have long to live. It's large, liquid brown eyes peered at them fearfully.

Thranduil felt a small shiver go up his spine, very similar to the feeling he got when Legolas looked at him. The look was almost sad, contemplative; so old yet so young.

"Oh," Celeblessil breathed. She took the heavy cloak she had used as a net on her husband and covered the fawn, tucking in the edges with the tenderness of a mother. She looked at the little creature with all the healer's knowledge she possessed in mind, but found sadly that it was a miracle it was still clinging to life.

Eventually, the fawn relaxed and the tremors ceased, its little nose tucked into the folds of the cloth, as Thranduil patted its head.

Celeblessil nestled herself under Thranduil's arm and let her hand rest on the fawn's belly, feeling the soft rising and falling of its breaths.

Then, all to soon, her hand stilled and the fawn fell into eternal slumber. Thranduil's and Celeblessil's eyes met with understanding.

Years passed, seasons went and Celeblessil left to Mandos' Halls and Legolas grew slowly, but all too fast for Thranduil. And he remembered the fawn and realized; life is frail. It's best to cherish it in its simplest moments.

**Special thanks to my wonderful editor: Scribbles-on-Parchment! Thank you so much mellon-nin, and much love!!**


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